Work Text:
It is one of those nights – one of those long, restless, frenetic nights in which we stay up far past coherency to empty our brains of words and hope the words meld into songs. We are sitting at the table, our chairs facing each other, until I move to look at something you’ve written on the page that had been empty a few minutes ago and we end up sitting next to each other, my chair pushed close to yours.
Your arm brushes against mine as you shift position; my foot accidentally touches yours under the table. Or maybe neither occurrence is an accident; I can’t say for sure. The night is cold outside, but here, at the table, in the accidental-or-maybe-not touches, there is heat, sparks that threaten to burst into flames in the air between us.
You say something, and our eyes catch, and I am staring into your eyes and you are gazing back. And then something breaks, and I lean over and kiss you, or maybe you lean over first, but the important thing is that our lips are touching, and suddenly I am reaching for you and you are reaching for me and the sparks of heat turn into a full-blown fire. And somewhere in the midst of the reaching and the collision of our bodies as we meld into one another like words into songs, my chair falls over and we end up on the carpet, pressing against each other, and you stop for a second and look at me, and you whisper something, and I whisper something back. And then we forget words and lose ourselves in a tangle of lips and hands and bodies…
And then I wake up.
It was a dream – of course it was a dream – and when my fucking traitorous mind realizes it was dreaming, I can’t go back to sleep, even though I've had something like five hours of sleep in the last three days, and I wish I hadn’t dreamed it.
But despite my exhaustion, despite the ache in my heart that wishes it was real, I realize something. I am so scared of the words, the three words that could change everything, that even in my dreams, I can’t hear myself say them.